


Don't Touch What's Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony, Student Peter, Whump Peter, alternative universe, hitman tony, nurse tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 21:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tony's tired of seeing Peter injured in his office day after day. When he finally finds out who's responsible, he decides to change the parameters of his mission a little.





	Don't Touch What's Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt where someone asked for a whump fic, and I put my own little spin on it :)

Tony sighs, turning to open the door when he hears the soft knock against the wood. He groans aloud when he’s met with Peter’s black eye, tattered clothing and bloody knees, spinning the rolling chair he’s occupying towards his table of supplies in the corner. “You’re killing me Parker.”

Peter shuffles his feet at the door, unwilling to enter without Tony’s express permission, despite the countless times he’s been here. “Come in, come in, you don’t need an invitation every time kid, considering how many times you’ve been here. Way too many, in case you were keeping count, by the way. Even once was pushing it.”

“Sorry, Nurse Stark.” Peter offers the soft apology as he limps into the room, unable to help the small whimper of pain that falls from his lips when his bruised tailbone makes contact with the examination table as he takes a seat.

“Shit- don’t apologize, kid, for fuck’s sake. You know I’ll patch you up anytime you need it, I just,” Tony sighs, “would prefer you didn’t need it.” He brings his hand up, swiping his thumb softly against Peter’s bruised cheekbone before gripping his chin, turning his face this way and that, examining the full extent of damage. “And how many times I gotta tell you, stop calling me Nurse Stark, makes me feel like an old woman.”

“Sor-” Peter cuts himself off, blushing slightly as he averts his gaze. “My bad.”

Tony rolls his eyes as he pulls out the disinfectant. “Shoulda known you’d try to come up with an alternative.” He pours the liquid onto the cotton pad. “You know how this works kid, you know the drill. Strip. Gotta make sure you-”

“Don’t get an infection. I remember.”

It’s Tony’s turn to avert his gaze as miles of milky white skin are exposed when Peter takes off his flannel, the shirt underneath, and his jeans, bruises and scratches not detracting from his beauty in the slightest. He folds his clothes neatly into a pile because of course he does, before settling back onto the table. Tony’s glad his face is hidden from view, no amount of training enabling him to hold back his winces and grimaces at the pained noises escaping the boy.

“Hm, shame you can’t remember how to avoid this whole procedure in the first place.” Peter doesn’t offer w itty remark, so they work in silence after that. Or rather, Tony works in silence, and Peter does his best to muffle his pitiful whimpers and pained groans.

Tony does his best to keep his erection hidden from view.

He finishes soon enough, more than accustomed to the process of dressing the boy’s wounds. He pushes his chair back when he’s done, turning to fill out the paperwork while Peter redresses. Tony hands over the late pass, excusing Peter for missing yet another one of his classes.

“Thanks, sir.” Peter makes for the door, but Tony reaches for his wrist, pulling him back, trying to ignore the stirring in his gut at the honorific. He pulls Peter back to the examination table, standing in between the boy’s legs when he spreads them instinctively.

“Pete,” Tony heaves out a sigh, knowing it’ll be worthless, wanting to give it a shot anyway. “Sweetheart, why won’t you tell me who’s doing this to you? A name, that’s all I want.”

“I- it’s nothing personal, sir, you know that. I just, can’t tell you.”

Tony can’t help himself, hand reaching up to cup the back of Peter’s neck, thumb running lazily against the sharp cut of the boy’s jaw. He ignores the little flip his heart does in his chest when Peter nuzzles into his touch unconsciously, eyes fluttering shut.

“Are your parents hurting you, Peter?”

Peter jerks back, and Tony mourns the loss for a split second before steeling himself, knowing the question needs to be asked. “NO! No, May- my aunt would never, Tony. She’s a nurse, she wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone her own nephew.”

Tony puts his hands up as a gesture of peace. “Just asking, angel, s’my job as school nurse to report to the authorities if I have suspicions that a child is suffering from domestic violence.”

“Please tell me you don’t? Have suspicions I mean? You gotta believe me, Tony, I’m all May has. I can’t let anyone take me away from her.” Peter’s eyes are wide and pleading, tone frantic and distraught at the idea of being taken away from his aunt. Tony reaches out again, running a hand comfortingly up and down the boy’s leg.

“I believe you, sweetheart, I do, okay? Just relax, no one’s taking you away from anyone. I just had to ask, is all.”

Peter sighs in relief, slumping back against the wall behind him. Silence resumes, Tony watching Peter as Peter watches the ceiling. Suddenly, Peter groans, and Tony opens his mouth, rushing to ask him when Peter starts grumbling. “He’s going to kill me.”

“No one’s laying a hand on you ever again,” Tony reassures instinctively, grip tightening where his hand rests on Peter’s knee, releasing quickly when the boy makes a pained sound. “You can tell me angel, It’s okay.”

“FlashThompsonbeatmeupintheparkinglostatlunchtime,” Peter mumbles in a rush, desperate to get the words out, wishing instantaneously he could take them back.

“You’re going to have to slow down, Pete, I can’t understand you.”

Another sigh, this one borderline martyr-like, and Tony has to resist the urge to snap how this is for Peter’s own good. “Flash Thompson-”

“Is the kid that’s hurting you?”

Peter nods. “But you can’t tell anyone! Especially not the principal. Flash said if anyone finds out he’s going to tell his dad to have them throw out my application as soon as it makes it into MIT’s admission’s office.”

Tony heaves another sigh, shaking his head at the poor boy’s innocence. He ruffles Peter’s hair, turning away so the teen can’t see his expression. “Thank you for trusting me with this sweetheart. I promise your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“You’re welcome. Now go, get outta here, you miss enough class as it is. And it better be a while before I see you again.”

“Sure thing Tony.”

Tony waits as he hears the click of the door, reaching for his leather jacket and cellphone only when the sound of footsteps is a safe distance away. He steps out of the office, flipping the sign on the door as he shrugs on his jacket, making his way outside. He slips into his car before he pulls out his phone, dialling a number he knows by heart.

Three rings before his call is answered. “Updates, Stark?”

Tony turns the speaker on and places his phone at his ear, holding it in place with his shoulder while he reaches for the dashboard, withdrawing what he needs and placing the items on the passenger’s seat. “Listen Fury, I know you said you only wanted me to give the kid a message to deliver to his old man.”  He uncaps the bottle, pouring the chloroform onto the rag, dumping a liberal amount. “But I think I should just take him.” He screws the lid back onto the bottle, tucking it safely back into his dashboard.

“And why’s that?” Fury wonders aloud, even though he has a feeling he already knows the answer.

Tony reaches for the third item, emptying the chamber and dumping the bullets into his palm. “Just. Figured it would really get the message across. And it couldn’t hurt to teach the kid some manners. Lord knows his shitty dad never did.”

“And that makes you just the man for the job,” Fury muses, before releasing a sigh so dramatic Tony can feel the air through the phone, making him roll his eyes. “You’re making this personal, Stark.”

“He made it personal,” Tony counters, screwing the silencer on to the front of the gun, “when he first touched a hair on Peter Parker’s head. I’m just kindly pointing out the error of his ways.” Tony pulls the phone away from his ear. “I’ll let you know if anything goes wrong, but it won’t, so I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. See you in twenty-four hours.”

Tony disconnects the call, tucking the gun into his jacket before making his way back to the school. He heads to the science wing, tucking himself into a stairwell near where he knows Flash’s last class of the day is. He occupies the time thinking up all the fun ways he’s going to make Flash Thompson regret the day he was born. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is [starkerchemistryy](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/starkerchemistryy) , come say hi!


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